


For Better or For Worse

by TheShipMaker



Category: Deadpool - All Media Types, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types
Genre: AU, And I think this will be good, But I have a general idea, F/M, First published fic, I'm confused on how to tag this tbh, M/M, Not entirely sure where this fic is going, Spideypool - Freeform, Trans Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-04-16
Packaged: 2018-03-20 19:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 4,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3662727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShipMaker/pseuds/TheShipMaker
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Deadpool is actually fighting for the good this time, but a powerful weapon challenges time and turns his body back years. And none other than Spider-Man is there to help him along the way.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Oh, Fuck

**Author's Note:**

> So this is my first published fic, and I've never written a summary before, so good luck to both of us. Hope this goes well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is my first published fic, and I've never written a summary before, so good luck to both of us. Hope this goes well. Oh! [Yellow] {White}

“Oh look,” Spiderman mused, looking on at the scene below him, “Deadpool.” Deadpool was always fun to watch in combat, and - though Peter would never admit it - he was always left in awe. However, the fun only lasted a few seconds as he noticed the destroyed buildings surrounding him and the stance with which Deadpool took. Deadpool never destroyed five buildings at once (“I don’t like to get my hands dirty,” he recalled Deadpool saying, but the sound of his voice told him that he didn’t like killing people that didn’t need to be), and he only stood in a true combat stance when he was scaring the shit out of someone, or was actually, seriously, fighting. And seeing as anyone who was still there was already screaming in horror, that only left one option. Before Spidey could even shoot a web, his Spidey-Sense shot a fire up the back of his neck, and a white light seemed to come from nowhere, so bright and powerful that Peter couldn’t see, and was blown backwards a few feet. But the light disappeared only a second after it came, and everything was filled with the dark of night once more. Spiderman sat up, rubbing his head. When he looked down upon the scene yet again, Deadpool was left unconscious in the middle of wreckage. His body was limp, and, oddly enough, didn’t seem to be bent in odd positions like he normally was when unconscious (but usually dead).

 

“Shit,” Peter whispered, and he swung down to land just to his left. He slowly lifted one leg over his body, crouching down not only to see if he was alright, but to protect him incase the perpetrator came back to attack. He felt no tingling of his Spidey-Sense, however, and once he was sure Deadpool wasn’t in need of being puzzled back together, he lifted him bridal-style. “Wow,” Peter thought, “Why is he so light? This can’t be good.” In his worry, which was always present with Deadpool despite the healing factor, he didn’t notice the extreme differences within Deadpool under that suit.

 

~

 

Death was laughing at him.

 

“Hey, c’mon, I know I’m funny,” Deadpool exclaimed, “but there’s no need to point!” Deadpool then continued to dramatically feign offense and exasperation. But Death just carried on laughing, if now even harder. He pouted, his shoulders slumped. “Death, we only got limited time here.”

 

“Oh, love,” Death began, still chuckling, “you are going to be so angry.”

 

“What, what are you-”

 

“‘Till next time, love,” Death said, caressing his face.

 

“But-” but Death was already fading into the darkness. Then the darkness gradually turned lighter and lighter, until he felt himself opening his eyes to see a white ceiling. He groaned, rolling onto his stomach and feeling a pressure against his - his eyes shot open.

 

[Oh, fuck]

 

{Oh, fuck}

 

“Oh, fuck,” Deadpool said before quickly covering his mouth.

 

[Not this shit again!]

  
{You’re fucking screwed, man}


	2. "Where are my katanas?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, second chapter! YAY!

Peter heard a high pitched, woman’s scream coming from his bedroom, his Spidey-Sense going wild. He ran, opening his door, but before he could get his “what the fuck is going on” out, his jaw dropped as he saw none other than Deadpool gripping the bedsheets, head hunched over and emitting a very powerful scream.

 

“Deadpool! Please, stop screaming! Are you okay?” Peter rushed, running over to the side of the bed. Deadpool froze, slowly looking up to stare directly at him. He reached behind him, and in realising his beloved katanas weren’t there, quickly grabbed a gun out of the holster on his left hip and pointed it directly at Peter’s forehead.

 

“Who the fuck are you?” Deadpool said, slowly, and Peter was confused at the female voice that came from him.

 

“Uhm, S-” but Peter stopped, only just then realising that he had taken Deadpool, fucking Deadpool, to his own personal bedroom, and was speaking to him without his suit or even his mask on. “Shit.”

 

“Okay, Shit,” Deadpool said calmly - still in a strikingly female voice - scaring Peter, “Where am I, and where are my katanas?”

 

“Deadpool, please calm down. Your katanas are against the wall, on the other side of the bed. Peter said, pointing behind Deadpool. Deadpool slowly lowered his gun, but not fully putting it down. His brow furrowed visibly behind his mask, along with a frown. “You’re - you’re in my apartment, I, uhm...”

 

“You ‘uhm’ what?”

 

“I kind of, uh, I took you, uhm-”

 

“Spit. It. Out.” Deadpool said threateningly, raising his gun again, and Peter only then realised how terrifying Deadpool could really be.

 

“Ah, fuck!” Peter exclaimed, hand flying to his forehead. He was at a loss for words - for the first time in what felt like years - and turned around, looking down and groaning in frustration.

 

“Whoa, hold up!” Deadpool said - still in a female voice - making Peter turn back around. Deadpool had raised his hands in confusion as his face seemed to dawn in understanding, even beneath the mask. “Spidey? Is that you?” When Peter’s jaw dropped in shock, he continued, excitement flooding his feminine voice. “Oh my god, I knew I recognized that ass! Holy fuck, you’re cute, Spidey! I mean, I always knew you were cute, but damn, that face! That ass was always a nice sight, but that face… it does wonders to my di-” he cut himself off. “My dick!” he whined to the ceiling as he flopped backwards onto the bed.

 

“Deadpool? Are you okay?” Peter asked, giving up in trying to figure out a way to prove him wrong, to prove he wasn’t Spiderman. Because, fuck, there really wasn’t a way. Deadpool talked about “seeing that ass from a mile away”, there was no way he wouldn’t recognize it now.

 

“No, Spidey, I’m not.” Deadpool whispered, and concern rose in Peter’s chest.

 

“Well, for starters, let’s just call me Peter, okay? That’s my name. Peter Parker.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, I have a feeling these chapters are going to be short throughout the story, seeing as I wan't to change POV often and update in a timely manner (mainly the latter). However, I hope you will still enjoy! <3


	3. “I’m gonna need your help”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh, chapter three.

[Oh my god, even his name is cute!]

 

{You would totally have a raging boner right now, but guess what? You do-}

 

“Shut. Up!” Deadpool yelled, gripping the sides of his head.

 

[Really? Gripping?]

 

{Hush, now is not the time.}

 

“S-sorry….” Spidey - excuse me, Peter, whispered. Deadpool sat up, looking apologetically at him.

 

“Hey, not you, Spidey, you know I love you. In here, ‘member?” Deadpool joked, pointing at his head. Peter looked a bit worried, but Deadpool decided to ignore it. “Peter Parker. Peter, Peter, Peter. Too formal. How ‘bout Petey for my baby boy?” Petey groaned, tossing his head back. _“There’s the Spidey I know,”_ he thought, ecstatic. It only lasted for a second, though. “Hey, Petey?” he said tentatively, cocking his head sideways.

 

[L-O-L, cocking!]

 

{Really? You child.]

 

[Hey!]

 

_Stop it._

 

“Yeah?” Petey said, defeated. He would never get rid of that nickname.

 

“I’m gonna need your help.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO sorry for the shortness, but I'm posting chapter 4 immediately after this one, and it's super long. Hope that makes up for it. Love you all! Thanks for sticking with me! <3


	4. Severely Depressing Origin Story

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the extremely long chapter 4. If you didn't know Deadpool's back story, well, you gone learn today. There's a few modifications to fit the plot/AU, but all in all it's basically his actual back story, as told by Deadpool himself.

“I’m gonna need your help.”

 

_“Wait, what?”_ Peter thought as he sat there, dumbfounded. Deadpool needing his help? Sure, Deadpool asked him to assist in a few fights, but he never, _ever_ , had asked for help. “Help?” Peter asked, unsure.

 

“Yes, Petey, help. You know, the act of assisting one in need, the thing you do on a daily basi-”

 

“Yes, Deadpool, I know what help is. Just a bit shocked that you need my help.” When Deadpool looked genuinely hurt, Peter rushed his words, “But I’ll help as best I can.” Deadpool smiled weakly, and Peter had never seen him so vulnerable. “What do you need help with?”

 

“Well, this is gonna take a while,” Deadpool sighed, patting the bed next to him. When Peter sat, Deadpool turned to face him, bouncing and clapping his hands as he said, “Severely Depressing Origin Story time!”

 

“Wait, you don’t have to, Deadpool-”

 

“Call me Wade,” he said, and Peter was a bit shocked. He never expected to know anything about Deadpool, especially his name. “Wade Winston Wilson, at your service,” He said with a dramatic bow, his nose touching the bed.

 

“Hello, Wade, nice to meet you,” Peter said, smiling, holding out his hand. Deadpool smiled wider than Peter had ever seen as he took his hand and shook it.

 

“You too, Petey.” Peter smiled despite the nickname. “Imma give you the short version, cause the long version would take up like twenty pages.”

 

“Pages?”

 

“Yes, pages, hours, whatever,” Deadpool said with a wave of his hand. “Okay, time for the origins. I’m from Canada, and I was born… I was born Wanda Wynonna Wilson.”

 

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, what?” Peter exclaimed, confused. He was a woman?

 

“Shush, you interrupting arachnid. It’s rude.”

 

“Sorry,” Peter said, shutting his mouth. Deadpool cleared his - or possibly her - throat.

 

“Anyways, I was born Wanda Wynonna Wilson. I was born a girl. When I was little, my mom died of lung cancer, leaving me with my dad. My dad hit me a lot; pretty hard, too. But that’s beside the point. When I was around sixteen, I figured out that I was transgender. It felt wrong being a girl. I was jealous of every man I saw, so I started to be a little rebellious prick, to be honest. I drank and I smoked and I fucked, and one time my dad found me at a club. He tried to take me home, but my friend knew about him hitting me and - and I still don’t know how he did it - stole my dad’s gun off him and shot him. He died, friend went to jail, I did some military stuff, blah, blah, blah.

 

“When I was eighteen I started my mercenary career. I only killed people who deserved it - I still do, but my range of ‘who deserves it’ has drastically widened. Travelled a lot, killed people a lot, had feelings for people a lot, and ended up here, in America.

 

“When I learned I had cancer, it kind of wrecked me. Cancer does that to a person, y’know? I went back to Canada, and gave up looking for doctors to perform my surgery to become male. I mean, I was dying, who cares, right? Then the government offered me to go to Department K, a government weapons development thingy. They said they could not only perform the surgery, but genetically change me into a male, so I could even produce sperm and shit. They even said they could cure my cancer. I was a test subject in a superhuman enhancement project, Department K’s branch, the Weapon X Program. They did the surgery, just like they said they would. It worked perfect, I was genetically male. They asked if I could become a test subject, and I agreed ‘cause the surgery worked so well. Their goal was to turn me into an unstoppable weapon. I didn’t know. They basically put Logan’s - yes, Wolverine’s - healing factor into my DNA, so I had it too. It didn’t - how do I put this? The cancer isn’t cured, but I won’t die from it, if that makes sense. If anything the cancer is worse. You see, the healing factor heals me, well obviously, but cancer is just a mutation of your cells, it’s not a virus or a sickness. It’s something your cells do to themselves. So, it helps the cancer, too. The cancer spread to every cell of my body with the help of the healing factor, but since it would kill me, it also fights it. Confusing, I know. So what’s really gross is that my skin never stays still. It’s always moving, ‘cause the cancer rips my skin apart ‘cause of infections and sores and stuff, but the healing factor heals it just as fast. So my skin rips apart, heals, rips apart, heals - like twice a second. Yes, it hurts like a son of a bitch, so don’t ask. It hurts worse when I think about it. Weapon X then started to send me on missions and shit, and I donned this suit. Pretty cool suit, huh? Made it myself. In one of my missions, though, I killed my teammate, so Weapon X rejected me and sent me to Hospice.

 

“Hospice was supposed to be a government facility where “failed superhumans” were treated but - but it wasn’t. Don’t get sad now, Deadpool, you’re on a roll. No flashback today! And don’t induce them, White. Yellow, please control him. Sorry, giving myself a pep talk. Anyway, those of us at Hospice weren’t treated at all. We were experimental subjects for a man named Dr. Killebrew and his sadistic as fuck assistant, Ajax. They tortured us, like, actual torture. Like some Auschwitz shit. By that time my healing factor had repressed itself, so it didn’t… it didn’t heal me. At all. I’ve got billions of scars, and they’re so fucking ugly. But whenever I died, it would bring me back after a while. Whenever I was dead, though, I met Death. Yeah, yeah, don’t believe me. Whatever. But Death is pretty fuckin awesome, if I do say so myself. I kinda got a crush on her, if you know what I mean. But whatever. I actually hadn’t gone completely insane by the torture, so, being my awesome, intelligent, really hot self, I taunted them ‘cause I wasn’t dead. See, they had a ‘deadpool’ where they would bet money on how long an experiment would last before they died. That’s how I got my name.

 

“Well, they lobotomized my friend to get me to go insane, but it didn’t. Well, not completely. I’ll get to that, though. The next time I died, Death suggested I kill my friend so that his suffering would end, and she could lead him to the afterlife or something like that. So when I woke up, I killed him. But the rules of the program said that any experiment that kills another experiment was to be executed, so Ajax ripped out my heart and left me to die. But y healing factor jump started and regenerated my heart, so when I woke up I killed Ajax and escaped with the other prisoners.

 

“It kinda gave me some psychological issues, like those two in my head. Shut up, you know you are. I didn’t have you before that, so what do you think put you two in my head? Sorry, they’re offended that I called them ‘psychological issues’.  They’re a yellow box and a white box. Why am I telling you this? Oh yeah, I need your help.

 

“So I went back to being a mercenary, but after a while I tried to drop it and have a ‘better’ life. Well, that didn’t work, so I went back to it again. Some weird shit happened, some alternate universe stuff happened, Lady Deadpool was pretty hot, and here I am.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, there you go! I hop it was okay.


	5. Deadpool's Got Boobs

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, this chapter is kind of a filler and is really shitty.

Peter sat there in shock, jaw dropped, tears running mercilessly down his face. Wade sat there, staring at him, but he couldn’t bring himself to move. He had never suspected… he couldn’t believe what Wade had just told him. It wasn’t until a hand waved vigorously in front of his face that he snapped back into reality.

 

“Petey?” Wade asked, a nervous waver in his voice.

 

“Y-yeah?” Peter whispered, wiping at his eyes with his sleeve.

 

“There’s kind of an obvious issue here,” Wade said. “Use that smart head of yours, your Spidey Powers, whatever you wanna call it.”

 

“What?”

 

“Think.” So Peter thought. He tried to get his mind past what he had just learned, and focused on all the weird that had just gone on the previous night. He remembered Deadpool being very light, a woman’s scream, and a feminine voice. _“Aw shit,”_ Peter thought. He double checked his theory, scrutinizing Wade. He noticed his Deadpool suit to be extremely baggy on him, and as he looked up - to put it bluntly - he had fucking boobs.

 

“You’re a woman again,” Peter stated. It really wasn’t a question.

 

“Bingo, Yahtzee! You’re the winner! Ding ding ding ding,” Wade said, his - or her? - voice sad.

 

“How?” Peter asked, confusion and concern passing over his features.

 

“I don’t know. I was fighting this guy, he blew up like two buildings, and I just happened to be in the area. Things got real serious, and then there was this light. I felt my body changing, and it was really freaky. Then I died, and Death laughed at me, that ass. Then I woke up and here we are,” Wade said dismissively. “That’s what I need your help with.”

 

 _“How the hell am I supposed to help?”_ Peter thought, worried. He truly wanted to help, but he just had no clue. What was he even supposed to do, though? Fix him? He sounded pretty bad as it was.

 

“Well do you still want me to call you Wade?” Of course that’s what came out of Peter’s mouth. Fuck.

 

“Uhm, yeah. You see, when a person is tr-”

 

“No, no, I know. I don’t know why I said that. I’m sorry. To be honest, I’m just so full of serious questions that the stupid ones started to come out,” Peter rushed apologetically.

 

“Nah, dude. I completely understand. It’s me you’re talking to, how could I not? Ooh, _we should get some chimichangas_!” Wade said, beginning to get excited again. “I’m starving!”

 

“Okay, hang in there Wilson, we gotta get some things straight,” Peter said, putting a hand on Wade’s shoulder. “I need to get you cleaned up before you even think about leaving this room.”

 

“Spidey wants a strip tease!” Wade began chanting, jumping of the bed and clapping his hands. He could be such a child. “Ow, fuck,” he said suddenly, stopping his movements. “My suit healed into my wounds. Oh well, I’ll rip it out later,” he said as if that wasn’t something that sounded extremely painful.

 

“Alright, that’s enough. You’re following me, and no sex jokes or I swear you’ll never see another taco in your life. Got it?”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short chapter, but will be updating again tonight! (Hopefully) Special shout-out to AO3 user Boston! You're sticking with my story and I love you to pieces for it! <3


	6. Youth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry, another short filler. But I'm finishing typing up chapter 7 right now, and it should be up within the next hour. Chapter 7 is a good and long one, I promise!

“Alright, that’s enough. You’re following me, and no sex jokes or I swear you’ll never see another taco in your life. Got it?”

 

[Oh god, oh god no.]

 

{Get the hell outta here!}

 

[Yep, that’s a damn good idea. Let’s just back away slowly and then jump out the window.]

 

{Sounds good to me.}

 

“Shut it,” Wade said, and when Petey turned around, he smiled weakly and pointed at his head. He smiled simply, nodded, and kept walking.

 

[Wait just a hot second!]

 

{Did he just accept us?}

 

[Did he just understand that you were talking to us and not flip?]

 

{Keep him. I like this one.}

 

_“Well, you’ve got to remember; it’s Spidey, not some random guy like we thought. He’s known us for a while, so he’s kinda used to it,”_ Wade mentally scolded.

 

[True.]

 

{I still say we keep him.}

 

They walked down a hallway and into a bathroom, and Wade had to consistently tell himself to “do it for the tacos” in order to not make a dirty remark.

 

“Sit,” Petey stated, gesturing towards the toilet while he rummaged under the sink. Wade lowered the lid and sat down as commanded, resting his elbow upon the counter to his right. “There we are,” Petey said with a smile, pulling a heavy duty first-aid kit from underneath the sink.

 

“Whoa, hold up, you eager spider. I can take care of myself, thank you very much. Done this a million times. I’ll be healed before you can blink. Thanks for the med kit, now shoo,” Wade said, making “shoo-ing” motions with his hands.

 

{You just don’t want him to see your skin}

 

_“Shut up.”_

 

{You know it’s true.}

 

“Wade, c’mon, I am not leaving this room until I know you’ve been taken care of. Here, lemme take off your sui-”

 

“ _No_!” Wade practically screamed, his shrill voice reminding them of the problem at hand. “Just, no. Okay? Just let me do it. I’m fine,” Wade said, and everything about him screamed seriousness.

 

“Wade, listen to me. If this is about your skin - no interruptions - you have to know that I honestly have no problem. I’ve seen your hands before, Wade, I’ve seen their skin and scars, and they don’t disgust me in the slightest. To be honest, I’ve actually wanted to hold your hand and feel them.” Peter blushed at his confession, but quickly recovered. “They look really cool. They add to your badassery,” he added with a wink, bringing a true smile to Deadpool’s face.

 

“Ugh, fine,” Deadpool sighed in defeat.

 

[What are you doing?]

 

_“I don’t know. I guess I trust him?”_

 

{Well I would say. You kind of just spilled your whole life to him. You’ve never done that.}

 

“Just the gloves, though. I don’t want to scar your mind all at once.” Petey then cautiously took his hands in his own, looking up at Deadpool for confirmation. When he nodded, Petey slowly pulled off the right glove, and-

 

“ _What the fuck_?” Deadpool screamed, ripping his right hand out of Peter’s to get a better look. Even his boxes went silent in shock. “But, how?” he thought, his whole body shaking. “I’m - I’m… what?”

  
“Wade,” Peter began cautiously, “I don’t think you’re just a woman again. I think that, maybe, that thing, that light turned you back into your youth.”


	7. Deadpool's Got a Hot Bod

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SO SORRY that it took me so long to update! I've been really busy with school *tear*. Well, at least this chapter is finally up! Hope you enjoy!

“That - that...but there’s no scars! Nothing! It looks… it looks like you, Petey! It’s normal!” Wade shouted, shoving his hand in Peter’s face to show him. He jumped up, grabbing Peter’s hand and holding it as tight as he could. He slowly released his hand, and tentatively pulled off his left glove. “Oh my god,” he whispered. He let out a sob of joy, tears making damp spots underneath the eyes of his mask. He fell to the ground, crying in shock and joy. A laugh interrupted the sobbing every few seconds, but it was okay. It was all okay. Peter lowered himself until he was sitting next to him, wrapping his arms around him. He rested his head on his shoulder, his Aunt May characteristics taking over.

 

“Hey now, you’re okay. See? Everything is okay! We just need to calm down, come on, I know you can do it,” Peter spoke lowly, attempting to calm the shaking man. “Deep breaths, okay? We really need to calm down, all this crying will just give you a big headache. Breathe with me, okay? In, out,” Peter demonstrated, taking in deep breaths and blowing them out slowly. Soon, the man began to calm, the shaking lessening by the second. He slowly started to breathe in sync with Peter until he finally sat back and relaxed into Peter’s arms. Peter smiled, holding the man for what felt like forever. But it wasn’t a bad forever; this forever was nice, it was something he could live in for the rest of his life. “Wade?” Peter asked quietly. “I need to make sure that you get cleaned up, and that your wounds can heal correctly.

 

Wade sniffed and stood up. “Okay,” he mumbled as he took his seat on the toilet.

 

“May I?” Peter asked, hand hovering above the neckline of his suit.

 

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah,” Wade smiled, and Peter began to take off the shirt of his suit. “Ow,” Wade complained, and Peter immediately stopped.

 

“What’s wrong?” He asked, lowering his hands.

 

“It’s stuck in my skin.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Wade pulled a pocket knife from his belt and handed it to Peter. “Cut the shirt away from where it’s stuck, we can pull that out later.”

 

“Okay.” Peter’s voice wavered just the slightest amount. He gingerly took the knife from Wade and began to cut away the deadpool costume. When he reached his chest he stopped. “Uhm, Wade?” he asked, bringing Wade’s mind back to the present. “Do you want me to step outside so you can do this?”

 

“Why?” he asked, the tiniest bit of hurt present in his voice. Peter simply looked down at his chest. “Oh,” he said in understanding. “I don’t give a fuck. If I remember correctly, I had a hot bod. Sorry for your eyes if I’m wrong.”

 

“Alrighty, then,” Peter said with a nod of his head, leaning forward and cutting pieces of suit away from his chest. He pointedly decided not to look, and simply focused on his work until the rest of the top fell away. He tossed it into a pile of ripped up suit starting on the floor of his bathroom. The extreme smell of old blood filled the air as Wade shifted, and Peter looked at him with a sad smile. He stepped back to examine his work, making sure he didn’t miss any places. Peter did a quick once over of his body to fulfill his curiosity. He was hot, but it didn’t have an affect on Peter. He had never told anyone, not even Aunt May, but he was very, flamingly gay. Well, maybe not flamingly; he didn’t walk the streets in pink pumps saying something along the lines of “Ooh, girl”, but he was into men like - well, men like Wade. He had always thought Wade was hot and had a great personality, but he was just never around him enough to like him in that way.

 

“Like what you see?” Wade joked, gesturing to himself. Peter snapped out of his thoughts and dismissed Wade’s comment with a laugh. He may have a new trust with Deadpool, but he just wasn’t mentally ready to come out yet.

 

“Let’s just get the rest of your suit off,” Peter giggled. Once the rest of the suit - except the mask - had been cut off, the smell of old blood grew stronger, and Peter knew he had to get the suit out of his wounds and clean him up. “Okay, are you ready, Wade? This is gonna hurt,” Peter said, hand hovering over a particularly disgusting piece of dirty, bloodied suit that disappeared into his skin.

 

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Wade said with a smile. Peter grabbed it, slowly peeling it away with a grimace so deep it seemed as if it would never go away. “Spidey, just yank it out. it’ll go much faster,” Wade sighed, looking down at his stomach where Peter was working.

 

“Oh shit,” Peter squeaked, abruptly stopping his movements. “If you’re back in your youth, what if you don’t have your healing factor?”

 

“Well, I guess we’re gonna find out.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm working on the next chapter and I PINKY SWEAR that I will get it up sooner than the last chapter! Thanks for sticking with me! <3 my heart goes out to you (especially you, Boston)

**Author's Note:**

> Well, that was the first chapter! Sorry, it was really short, but I hope you liked it! Please leave any comments on how to make things better. <3


End file.
